Superstories
by Fueled By French Fries
Summary: Listen, I'm not explaining my whole life story, but I'm writing assorted Supernoobs fics; details inside.
1. Fic Sampling Tray

So much of this is either super silly or super sad, or swing both ways, violently. CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY, CHILDREN.

Going in order from silly to sad, a short writing snippet further down.

* * *

 **The Play's the Thing**

\- Roach writes and tries to pull off a play about their hero identities to impress his drama teacher. And then everyone accidentally gets high off something Mr. Wertz put in Tyler's drink.

\- Angst score: 0.0

\- Content warnings: Think drunk Shakespeare, but instead of Shakespeare it's a play about superheroes. Just off the top of my head, we've got swearing, inappropriate use of peanut butter, furries, references to masturbation, references to time travelling in regards to masturbation- maybe I should just say this one's Cards Against Humanity in prose form.

 **Survival of the Fittest**

\- As a training exercise, Mem and Zen strand the kids on an alien planet and watch to see whether they puzzle out how to survive. Hilarity ensues.

\- Angst score: 0.5

\- Content warnings: Fight scenes, Kevin's inappropriate sense of humor, and Shope rolling with his inappropriate sense of humor.

 _You are now passing the point where these fics stop being relatively adventurous and innocent to the "oh my god why would you make these characters suffer like this you monster" zone._

 **Outlook Not So Good**

\- I got this prompt from tumblr and couldn't get it out of my head. Tyler gets future vision and ends up predicting his friends' deaths several weeks later. He does everything he can to prevent this. Slight Tyler/Kevin.

\- Angst score: 6.0

\- Content warnings: Major character injury. Major character death but not really. Depictions of anxiety.

 **Download In Progress**

\- Things Shope can control: water, electricity, ice, earth, air. Things Shope can't control: her own life. OR: Shope tries to deal with her overbearing emotions and her somewhat overbearing parents.

\- Angst score: 7.0

\- Content warnings: This is one of those things I don't really know about until I'm actually writing it. This is probably the safest one because Shope's narrating style kind of censors most dirty humor, but there are depictions of anxiety and panic attacks here.

 **Re: Science Bros**

\- THIS ONE'S TITLE SOUNDS CUTE BUT IT'S SAD AND EVIL OKAY. Kevin and Shope bond by starting a YouTube channel. Thing is, Kevin's kind of dealing with some personal problems and yes it is one of those stories where Kevin has an abusive dad. Kevin/Shope isn't the focus of the story but it's there.

\- Angst score: 8.0

\- Content warnings: Okay, let's just say everyone has anxiety. Abuse warning. Panic attack warning. Major character injury, and of course because Kevin's narrating we have some swearing and inappropriate gallows humor.

All stories take place two years after the main series, in the kids' freshman year of high school. Yes, this does mean that Mr. Wertz broke into their high school. He's creepy like that.

Hey, look, you made to the actual writing, good job!

* * *

 **The Play's the Thing**

"Could the lighting tech please stop turning the lights up to take selfies?" Tyler grumbled over the mic. "Thank you. We're on in ten, everybody!"

Roach scurried up to Tyler's side. "Is everything okay?"

"Hey, man, I support you and everything, but this is the third time you've asked. Everything's fine. Well... fine as I can get it with what I've got to work with. HEY, YOU! YEAH, YOU! STOP RAPPING ABOUT OLD POLITICS OVER THE MIC! THE AUDIENCE CAN HEAR YOU!" Tyler shouted into his headset.

"I just want everything to be memorable for my old drama teacher!"

"It's definitely gonna be... memorable, I can tell you that much, Roach." He took a sip of coffee, then cringed. "This tastes really weird. Let's go check on Kevin and Shope; they're the ones actually acting."

"Right here!" Tinfoil and cardboard was more or less the best they could do with a high school budget. It was obvious that different people must have done their makeup- Shope looked fine, more or less, but nobody would be throwing underwear at Kevin, to say the least.

"Wow, Shope, you look amazing! That eyeliner looks really clean!" Roach said, despite having no apparent means of seeing through his hair.

"Thank you? It's sharpie."

"What do I look like?" Kevin stuck his leg in the air, hitting an innocent passerby in the face.

"You look like a two dollar whore!" Roach said, unflinchingly. Kevin gasped in outrage as Tyler choked on his hot cup of joe.

"I didn't teach him that!" Tyler insisted. "Play's on in five. I'm gonna go... sit down for a second. I'm feeling woozy for some reason. Go get ready."

Which one of these fics do you want to see a new part of? Vote now on your phones!


	2. Survival of the Fittest (Part 1)

**MORNING**

"Speaking as a person with twenty cycles of experience in survivalism, I'll give you this advice: nature hates you and wants you dead. It's terrible," Zen said as he handed out the backpacks. "These should contain everything you need to survive out here."

"Each of you have an emergency radio. They only work once, so only use them if you're about to be... I don't know, eaten or something. We'll be back to pick up you or your bodies in the morning." Mem concluded the briefing and rushed back into the Galacticus with Zen, taking off in less than a minute. Well, they were certainly in a hurry to be somewhere.

The planet the kids had been left on was lush, as far as it went. It had looked overcooked from a distance, but that was because the plant life was completely black. Even temperature-wise, it was far from heated- the ground was cracked and full of ice, but no snow fell.

"If this isn't snow, then what is it?" Kevin said, slogging his way through a knee-high layer of something white and thick, but was too warm and rubbery to be snow.

"You really want to know?" Shope was wearing pants today because, let's be real, wearing a skirt during any kind of survival circumstance is no bueno. She was also wearing a shit-eating grin.

"Well, when you say it like that, I don't."

"Alien fungus!"

"Ew, why? I could have pretended it was snow! Please, just let me have this!"

"I WILL LET YOU HAVE NOTHING!" Shope cackled.

Tyler turned to chide them. "Guys, can we just keep moving and find a water source? Or do you want to keep being petty and die of dehydration?"

"I choose pettiness," Kevin said, laying face-down in the fungus.

"Can you please just stop? We really should find food," Roach spoke up.

Shope laughed, but pulled Kevin out of Kevin-shaped dent he had made in the soft fungus. "I'll stop when I'm dead."

They had set up camp an hour earlier, but were no closer to finding a stream. There had been a pretty big pile of sticks in that clearing ("Don't look at me like that; this is totally an acceptable shelter!" Kevin had said when he'd refused to make a real place to sleep and instead threw some of the white fungus inside a hollow in the pile. "Why would I go to that trouble when my work's already done for me?") that they'd partially cannibalized to make shelters.

"Now, if this actually was snow, then we wouldn't have to go to the trouble of finding a dang stream," Tyler sighed. His voice was getting gravelly from verbally smacking his friends' hands and telling them "NO" so much. "We could just melt it and-"

"Remember when we went to summer camp?" Shope interjected. "I saw someone grab a handful of moss off the ground, squeeze water out of it, and drink it. We could try it with the ground cover here."

Roach tapped her on the arm. "That was me, Shope."

"I figured as much- hey, what are you doing?!" Tyler had scooped up a handful of white fungus and squeezed it over his mouth. Sure enough, there was water, but: "We don't know if that's safe! That could kill you, for all you know!"

"Good!" Tyler gurgled through the fungus water. He threw the dry fungus onto the ground.

"There, that should put me through the next hour. Maybe less if I have to keep breaking up your fights. And nobody try that, okay. I only did that because I really, really hate myself. Use a water purification tablet. Jesus," he said, trundling back to camp.

As they followed him, Kevin and Shope made that knowing eye contact that communicated, "holy god, we have to at least pretend to get along or this boy's gonna kill himself with stress."

* * *

A/N:

I'm being, like, dead serious when I say "vote now on your phones." I wanna give the people what they want! Sorry for the short part.


	3. Re: Science Bros (Part 1)

You were told once that breaking things is a form of affection. Keeping that in mind, you had jumped through Mem and Zen's closed window a couple of days ago.

The gaping hole's currently covered in cardboard as they wait for the appointment with the repairman to roll around, and you are really, really determined to shoot it out from Tyler's front yard.

"It's less like a bullet and more like a rock," you insist. "Worst case scenario, I miss, put a dent in their wall, and they yell at me."

"I'm not telling you to stop because I think you could hurt somebody; I'm telling you to stop because that's all-around a dick move!" Tyler counters. He's always been a good kid, and you kind of feel bad for him for making friends with you. "You already broke their window! What do you want from them?"

Nothing, really- there's a lot of stuff you do because why not. "I just like wrecking stuff, okay? Now watch me thread the needle!"

"That's not a shooting thing," Tyler gets out before you fire. The charge of the blaster doesn't make it as far as the house, and embeds itself in the ground, smoldering.

Maybe it's because the blaster is too heavy, and you're aiming at the ground? You had chalked up the soreness in your right arm to the lingering bruise, but maybe. "Hey, could you kneel down for a second?"

"Why?"

"I gotta use you as a rifle stand."

"What the- hold on," he says, before rushing back into his house. Five or so minutes later, he comes back out wearing that goofy protective headset he started wearing when a couple of battle ball updates made life hard on him. (Let's just say a louder, more powerful blaster does not work well with a warrior with hypersensitive hearing.)

He gets down and you rest the blaster on his shoulder. "You're still gonna get in trouble," he chides before you fire again, and it hits the cardboard, blasting it into the house.

"Bullseye!" You do a little victory dance before Mem sticks his head out the window and just... starts screaming. Oh boy.

You go in there because now you have to go in there, or one of them's going to teleport on over, grab you by the hood, and drag you into their house. Tyler and his shit-eating grin follow through the door. Zen is on the couch- he found the Jeopardy channel.

"A method of removing dirt, stains, and odors," the TV prompts.

"What is cleaning?"

"YES, ZEN. WHAT _IS_ CLEANING," Mem demands as he sweeps the smoking cardboard into a dustpan. "Kevin, full offense: why are you like this?"

You shrug. Mem groans and taps Zen on the shoulder. "We've gotta keep going with this lesson. Take these two downstairs to meet the others; I'll fix the window."

He cuts the conversation short at that, and you go into the basement without him, which is a relief. Normally you could handle being verbally knocked around, but this morning at home was almost too much and your nerves are more shot than you'd care to admit. "Breaking news: teenage slacker dies of stress-induced heart attack." Christ, that would be embarrassing.

You almost jump when you feel an enormous hand on your back, and it takes longer than it should to realize that Zen's patting you on the back, not trying to push you over. "I hate to admit it, but that was actually a good shot. But next time, shoot at something other than my house."

"Oh, yeah, sure." That came out way less proud than you intended. You need to stop thinking about these things; it's really dampening your mood.

"I was the rifle stand!" Tyler pitches in. "Also, sorry about your lawn. It's probably on fire now."

"Wait, what?" Zen says as the elevator dings open. Shope and Roach are sitting at the table, scrolling through some kind of alien touchscreen thing.

"Hey, guys!" Roach greets. "We're looking through a list of new powers and stuff we should be learning."

If you're going to be grumpy today, you might as well use it to your advantage. "Yeah, that sounds like boatloads of fun."

"Oh, thank god," Tyler says. "I was worried I'd only be able to like... teleport and shit forever."

"Shitting forever? That really sounds like the bottom of the superpower lottery," you say, because you're immature and you love slips like this.

"Kevin, listen to how I inflect things."

"Is there a superhero out there that can do that? Is this important information for our everyday lives? Is our next big threat gonna be Shitman?"

"Holy god," Tyler groans.

Zen chimes in with an "Alright, alright, enough Shitman. Roach summed it up, but you might as well have a look at the lists." Dead silence. "Shope, could you at least grunt or something so I know you're listening?"

"Grunt," she says, completely deadpan. "Is 'summon inclement weather' implying what I think it is?"

"It probably is, but you can't do that yet. It's not a matter of skill; that just takes a lot of brute strength you don't have," and honestly you're not hearing the rest of the conversation because it just broke off into science jargon you don't understand. You bother Roach until he hands over his screen.

There's a lot of technobabble involved in the descriptions of your possible powers, but some of these you can understand. Animorphism, partial animorphism? Probably self-explanatory. But that's where it ends for the most part. Anatomical morphism? Metabolic stasis? Hyper-regeneration- okay, maybe you can puzzle out what that's supposed to be.

...If Mem hadn't barged into the room shouting "WHY IS OUR LAWN ON FIRE?"

Jesus, now you've got to sit there just watching these two duke it out. This shit tends to put you on edge, so you don't realize Shope's slammed her hands on the table and stood up to them until it's happening. "Okay, that's it! I don't have to stand here and listen to your emotional constipation! Mem, I don't know what's up with you, but we're going on strike until you and your husband's gotten your shit together. Who's with me?"

Everyone sits in stunned silence. Roach breaks it with: "Shope said shit."

Shope huffs and makes her way to the elevator. "...Yeah, I'm going too," you sigh, getting up. It's not like you have anything better to do.

She almost looks confused for a split second, but then it's gone and she's leading you to the door in triumph. "You hear that? Another point for justice and a healthy gaylien relationship!" she shouts from the elevator as Mem and Zen splutter and shout for you to stop that. You frantically hit the door closing button, shutting them out.

You and Shope bolt out of the house, through the flaming lawn, and down the street, cackling like idiots in the dimness of the late afternoon. By the time you're at her driveway, the question finally occurs to you: "...What do we do now?"

"I... I'm not sure. It's been a really long time since we had this hour to ourselves." She looks around thoughtfully, and then her eyes land on the car in the driveway. "We could go to town. I have a learner's permit."

"Hold up, doesn't that mean you can only drive if you have an adult in the car?"

"Ah, my parents let me drive alone, if only because I need the practice to fix my sense of direction."* She jogs up to the front steps and opens the door. You hear her shout to her dad that she's going to practice driving, and faintly, you hear "alright, just don't stay out too late. And stay away from the neighbor's house, their lawn is on fire for some reason." Her parents are getting easier, you think.

You both jump in the car, and trundle off into town. "Now what?"

"Well, I mean, I just ditched training, lied to my parents, and ran off with a guy I'm not supposed to talk to. Maybe we could rob a bank."

You burst out laughing, like that sound a dog makes before it throws up. "I know, right?" She snorts. "It's funny because it's true!"

"You got on my ass once because I tried to take ketchup packets from McD's! Sneaking out for a long walk on the beach is not in your skill range."

"That... actually doesn't sound half bad. You know Lake Morrison?"

"The lake nobody ever let their kids swim in?"

"Yeah, that. At this hour, nobody's in there. And we could convincingly lie and say we're adults if someone is!"

Strict parents make the best liars, and holy god is Shope a good liar. "Yeah! Lake Morrison, here we come!"

* * *

*Shope once circled a gas station way longer than she'd ever admit trying to get the pump on the right side. Breaking news: girl with an IQ north of 125 takes six circles around a gas station to realize this doesn't magically make the pump switch sides; more at ten.

Queued: conclusion to this chapter and another chapter of The Play's The Thing.


	4. Re: Science Bros (Part 2)

**Serious content warning: eating trouble and heavily implied abuse.**

You'll never forget when Shope pulled you in close, looked you in the eye, and said those words:

"WHO THE FUCK CLOSES A LAKE?"

You ended up staying with Shope a while anyway, trying to toss rocks over the barbed wire fence into the lake before the mosquitoes got too bad to continue loitering. Any other person would have gone home, but you'll take any excuse to not go home, and frankly there's just something endearing about watching Shope fling rocks, screaming "anarchy!"

Of course, while you were getting food, the virus hit and you had to have a big fight that crushed part of the Chinese place, but that's just par for the course now. The point is that Shope's parents were paged by the hospital. They had to go help injured bystanders- they wouldn't be home for hours.

So naturally you took this as an opportunity to not go home tonight, and you're eating chow mein with her on her couch, watching Netflix.

"Can't believe we got out of there with our food," you quip, biting down on something hard all of a sudden. "...This dumpling has a bullet in it."

"Mmm, shrapnel dumplings." Shope doesn't bat an eye as you swallow the bullet. Y'know, like a man. Hope your powers prevent lead poisoning. Her face is a little scratched from the fight, and she jacked up her wrist from punching the cream puff monster a little too hard. Other than that, she doesn't look half bad in this light.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you temporarily seize with anxiety before realizing it's Tyler.

Tyler: Holy fuck I just watched the news  
Tyler: Are you ok  
Kevin: were fine. im sleeping over at shopes house  
Tyler: Ok but take care of yourself  
Tyler: Some of that footage looked really painful  
Kevin: im okay  
Tyler: You're sure  
Kevin: would i lie to you

Tyler approves of this answer and stops texting you, which is a relief because you really are lying to him. You and Shope didn't take care of your wounds at the same time, so she didn't see how bad the damage actually is. In particular, the scabs on your back broke open, and it's difficult to sit comfortably.

To be completely honest, all you want to do right now is lay on your side and sleep, but that would imply something's wrong with you, and that isn't the message you want to get across.

You start talking again because this line of thinking leads to trouble and sadness. "I think I saw ol' hammerhead in the restaurant."

This gets Shope's attention. "Count Venamus? ...Really?" He'd dropped off the face of the planet for the past... year or so? You don't believe it either, but he's not really... sinister anymore. He's lost his edge. "You think he'd be more showy."

"It was him, alright. Little tusks and all." You shift to try and get more air in you. "The guy still looks like someone glued eyes to a hammer. At least he had evil going for him before, but Christ, what happened?"

There's a weird silence before Shope speaks up. "Maybe he gave up evil."

You both burst out laughing.

You take the opportunity to take some of Shope's noodles while she catches her breath. "Don't take my food, you whore."

"I'm not a food whore."

"Like hell you aren't. Your room is full of junk food. It's like an apocalypse bunker in there."

"It's not a bunker, I just like to keep a snack around!" You're never sure when it's safe to go to the dinner table, so more than often you don't.

Shope gets up. You look up and realize the credits are rolling on the TV. "Holy god, that movie was awful."

"Well, good night. I'm good on the couch." You cautiously lean back.

"Do you mind if I do something?"

"Uh... 'something?'" Oh dear, she's turning the lights on. Shope sits back on the couch with her phone out and pointed at you. "Are you seriously taking a selfie?"

"No. I'll do another take if this makes you feel weird," she promises before turning the camera on. "Hey guys, welcome back to Science Girl, and today-"

"Wait, is this a YouTube thing? You seriously have a fucking YouTube channel?"

"Yes, I do have a YouTube channel, and don't swear on camera. I've got tiny children subscribing." Shope continues talking to the camera. She looks more tired than you thought with the lights on. "That guy's Kevin; he's my friend. And a jerk." You wave. "And we're reviewing Detergent... 3."*

"Oh, god, there are two more?"

"Three more."

"Jesus."

"It's a summer action film about some girl leading a rebellion... I think. At this point the plot is too confusing to tell and the CG was just embarrassing. Kevin, what do you think?"

You look up. You had gone back to your food. "I'm eating."

"See? Totally a food whore."

"I- I'm putting it down. See, I'm putting it down." You know she's joking, but the whole "food whore" thing is making you more uncomfortable than you'd like.

"Okay, so I actually thought that whole plot twist in the beginning- where the girl was the only normal person and her hometown was a science experiment- was neat, but if you're three movies in, it's too late for that shit."

"...I don't usually talk about narrative structure in these videos, Kev. I usually just talk about movie science. This is the Science Girl channel."

"You lost me at narrative structure."

"Never mind, just keep talking; my subscribers heard me talk about you and they're curious."

You bat your eyelashes at her. "Aw, you were talking about me?"

"I called you 'a walking dril tweet.'"

"That's accurate. Anyway, Shope and I spent the last half of the movie talking. If your movie is so uninteresting that I would rather talk to an honors student, you've kind of failed at making an action movie."

"That's an insult to honors students."

You continue going on without much structure, just what you have off the top of your head; Shope sticking her oar in every now and then to talk about how nasty the CGI was and arguing about the plot twist, (which wouldn't have been so stupid if it was just... done better!) but she's obviously exhausted, so you ask her to cut off the video at fifteen minutes even though apparently these tend to run for thirty.

"You need a blanket? ...Shit, you don't have a change of clothes, do you? You need to run back to your house?"

"No, no, I'm okay." You're low-key begging Shope to not make you go home. Never thought you'd see the day you'd beg her for anything, but you know at this hour you either would be locked out anyway, or beaten until you see God and you don't know how you could explain that shit.

"Jesus, Kevin. What are you, scared of the dark?" Fuck, you let some of that slip into your face. Shope snorts, not thinking much of it, and pats you on the shoulder affectionately. "Good night. You big weenie."

You lay on your side and stare at the dead TV for a long time, trying not to think about anything.

* * *

You feel pretty good the next morning. The broken scab's not bothering you too badly, and you try to sneak out to go to school.

The feeling fades quickly when two things happen- you remember the consequences of not going home last night, and Shope's parents spot you.

"Oh, Kevin, your father called. Officer Reynolds was a big help last night. Go ahead and take a waffle; there's not going to be time for you to go home and eat," Shope's dad says, not looking up from his newspaper. Shope's mom just stares before going back to her oatmeal. "Shope's at the bus stop. I'd leave now if I were you. Wouldn't want to be late."

You make your way up the hill to the stop with a waffle in your mouth. You're a little too nervous to eat, but you choke it down anyway because how the fuck are you going to take a waffle on the bus?

Shope's parents never really liked you that much. They think you're a delinquent, and they're right, but they feel obligated to let you stay over after they found out your dad's the chief of police. He's had to run all over the place lately because of the virus, so he's not usually home. But he expects you to be home, and that's a rule you don't want to break. Ever.

"Come on, Kevin, aren't you hungry?" Roach asks at lunch. It's an innocent question, but it still turns your stomach. You love your friends and you really don't want to scare them like this but you can fucking. Feel something breathing down your neck. By just being at the table.

To please Roach, you take a couple of carrot sticks and eat that.

You just hope it's going to be quick when you get home.

* * *

 _Today at 2:50 PM_

Mem: Hey how long should you cook brownies?  
Kevin: 30 minutes then test w a toothpick  
Kevin: at 350 degrees. dont want u doin some stupid shit like 3000 degrees  
Mem: Thank you!

 _Today at 5:12 PM_

Kevin: hnjeljp  
Mem: ?  
Kevin: ml ml m m  
Mem: Are you ok?  
Kevin: p leafse/  
Mem: Kevin?  
Kevin: h  
Kevin: hrdflp  
Kevin: hhl;hhelp me p lease p l ease  
Kevin: fucij pllleas/e st;op it hurts..  
Mem: Kevin I'm coming to get you. Just stay where you are

* * *

*Shope is actually talking about Alleigant. I didn't name names because I personally think naming real-life movies in fanfics is kind of... jarring. Just because it worked in Homestuck doesn't mean it'll work here. But other than the name, what Shope and Kevin are talking about are real issues the movie has. Go watch it, it's terrible.

Cliffhanger because not only is it late, but because I'm a jerk who wants my readers to suffer. So, uh, have that. I actually felt bad writing that last bit, which is a first for me.


	5. About

Just jotting down some random info about what's changed in the two-year time skip.

\- The kids have grown a lot because of the training- with the exception of Roach, who also grew, but is still pretty short when you stand him up next to the others. Shope could sit on him if she really wanted to.

\- There were healing chambers in the show, but they're gone now because that was a stupid plot device- I mean, they're gone because of safety concerns. Some guy reportedly had a bunch of tumors because of them. Later, it turned out he had had those tumors _before_ he went in the healing chamber, but the PR damage was done and all the chambers were scrapped by then.

\- The healing chambers were replaced with Voltron-style cryopods. A character can still be brought back from the brink of death, but it's gonna take a week at the very least.

\- Because the kids are in high school now, most of the teachers are different. ... _Most._ Mr. Wertz is still there, under the name Mr. Arertz, but we know it's you, Wertz, that hat isn't fooling anybody.

\- Wertz's other aliases include Mr. Thertz, Mr. Crystalrtz, and Mr. Gemsrtz. Yes, they are all Mr. Wertz in a hat.

\- Count Venamus (aka hammerface/Voldemus/any variation of Squidward) is still sneaking around. He's stranded on Earth without venaminions because the creators of the virus gave up on him.

\- The noobs could easily find him and send him to the Benevolent Alliance, but they don't because that would just be a dick move. I mean, come on, the guy already lost his job.

\- Depending on the story, Venamus may come out of hiding. He may not have great technology anymore, but the isolation and continued rejection from his boss has really fucked his sanity over, and he's willing to do anything, up to and including things that would bump the show's content rating up.

\- Kevin has been kicked around by his police chief dad since he was eleven, but the upswing in virus attacks has led to him having to put in overtime... which has led to him drinking more... which has led to more intense beatings. This is mostly addressed in "Re: Science Bros."

\- Amy has taken up tumblr blogging about the Superdudes' escapades. There's a lot of pictures of Tyler's (Superdude) butt on there. She might also sell pot on the side, but that's another thing entirely.

\- Tyler's feelings towards Amy are starting to erode. It probably has to do with all those pictures of his butt she's posting without his consent.

\- Roach is talking more and trying to launch a campaign to be top drama kid.

\- Shope is falling into a robotic state of mind. After two solid years of wobbly grades, her parents aren't happy with her and it's emotionally draining her. She loosens up a bit when around Kevin.

\- Tyler has taken up a hobby of figuring out creative ways to get his friends out of trouble. Kevin was absent yesterday? Tell him to say his dad took him fishing, and give the teacher a phone number for the bait shop as an alibi... except it's not the bait shop, it's a phone Tyler found in lost and found. Use gruff voice to confirm Kevin went fishing. Mission complete!

\- The battle balls have updated repeatedly, mostly just tweaking some things (better blasters) and phasing out glitches (Kevin can no longer get "stuck" as an animal), but it's only really given new powers to Tyler and Roach.

\- Tyler has sensitive... senses, I guess. Night vision, sonic hearing, etc. This has the side effect of making it hard for him to eat certain things due to the texture, or having to wear gloves because sometimes it's overwhelming to touch things with his bare hands.

\- Roach can now sprout a second set of forearms and lock these extra hands together, kind of giving him a double fist? It would be easier for me to draw out.

And that's all I can think of.

Also, I'm now doing "what if" story requests. (Ex: "What if the kids had different powers?") Send me a "what if" and I'll write it.

Gold star for anyone who finds the lame Steven Universe joke in there.


	6. Re: Science Bros (Part 3)

**Content warnings** **: blood, injuries, descriptions of abuse, depiction of a flashback, and panic attacks.**

* * *

 _Mem: Kevin, I'm coming to get you  
Mem: Just stay where you are_

It's almost too hard to focus on the words. It's harder to realize you'd texted the wrong person, but you shove that thought away for when you can afford to think about these things.

The screen of your phone quickly fades into a blur of light from all the blood and how badly you're tearing up. You turn off the screen, pull your hood over your face, and try to curl as far into yourself as possible. You're pretty sure you're ruining your bed and your clothes, but you don't know what to do about that, you don't know anything right now.

You snuggle down into the softness of your hoodie, even though it's really warm in your house already. You were forced to take it off earlier, but it had gotten caught on your foot when you ran for your room. Even with all the warmth, you still can't breathe for sobbing because all the screaming and banging on the door is too much for you.

You reach up to wipe your eyes, and end up with another red smear on your face. Your arm must have been cut pretty badly when the bottle came down. Your fingertips feel cold.

You don't look up when you hear the flash, just feel a pang of fear and shame. Look at you you shouldn't hide you should be stronger than this _why would you ask someone so far above you for help you fucking idiot_.

But you don't get any harsh words. You just hold your breath for what feels like forever, wondering what Mem's doing, but too scared to open your eyes. You want to be relieved when you're wordlessly scooped up, but your nerves are still too shot to process much of anything. You just go limp as he goes and teleports you to a safe place.

When all you can hear is a soft buzz of electric lights, you slowly open one eye and see Mem and Zen's janky window and pathetic ceiling fan piddling along. You fixate on the fan as you're set down on the couch and talked at gently, not really hearing anything.

Shope had gone and put that damn fan in a couple of years ago, when you had taken on the task of renovating the house. She'd done it at the last minute, simply because the room looked weird without anything on the ceiling, in her opinion. She's not an electrician, though, and the fan started screaming, smoking, and spinning backwards the second she turned it on.

"It's doing its best!" She had insisted when you wanted to shoot it down. It had been a group effort to fix it, but you'd still take it down- a little more carefully, to put it somewhere else- if you were left alone in this room. You realize this is unlikely as you come back to your senses.

Zen is rushing into the room with an armful of first aid shit, and for some reason Mem's shaking you like you're dying. "Kevin, answer me!"

"I'm not _dead_ , calm down." Jesus, you _sound_ dead. To be fair, your windpipe's gone through some shit in the past couple of hours. "I'm still here."

"Oh, thank goodness. Your head, you know? I'd assumed the worst." You narrow your eyes. What's Mem doing handling you with kid gloves? He's seen you hurt before, and let you patch yourself up because the excuse that being half-naked in front of an alien felt weird was adequate before.

Except those other times he'd assumed it was the virus, and a lot of times it was. Now he has reason to believe otherwise, and that excuse isn't okay now.

"Ssshit," you mumble, dropping your head into your hands, before immediately yelping because holy fuck your arm must be hurt worse than you thought.

Zen's getting the gauze out, and you just want to run for your life again, except it's not going to get better than this. Mem is still trying to trap you into calming down. "Kevin, I've gotta take your shirt off. You're bleeding through it, and I'm not letting you treat your own wounds with a concussion."

If it's absolutely gotta happen, you want to do it yourself, but you deny your arm's being dodgy and you can hardly bend your torso. You try not to struggle as he pulls it over your head.

It doesn't feel good when the air hits your back, but you grit your teeth through it because you know it has to be better than letting it fester in your hoodie. If anything's a giveaway that a virus monster didn't do this, it's the marks on your back. You see your arm and squeeze your eyes shut again- it's slashed pretty badly, in a place you're pretty sure has an artery in it.

Nobody talks. Someone sucks in air and shuffles out of the room. Someone else makes quick work of examining your arm.

"...There's glass in this." It's Mem. "Kevin, you're going to have to tell me how this happened."

You can't breathe for a second. "If you're trying to protect somebody- well, you're a smart kid, you know you don't have to."

"It's not that," you get out, opening your eyes to stare Mem in the face. "I just don't want, y'know. The other guys to know. I don't want 'em to feel like garbage over this, it's not something they could change."

"I promise I'm not going to tell them."

"Great." You exhale deeply. He picks up a pair of tweezers. "Hope you're prepared to keep that."

You don't want to say everything; you're not spilling your fucking life story. But you put on the "true neutral" expression Shope likes so much and explain.

You explain that you came home and bottom line, got your ass kicked. You'd been choked out, then belted until you almost blacked out. And then (ow, fuck! At least give a warning, Mem!) you tried to run out onto the front lawn to get the neighbors' attention.

Then you were grabbed and that's when you were shoved to the floor and hit on the side of your head with the bottle. You saw the broken glass next to your face and thought, "holy shit, Dad's actually gonna kill me today."

(You'd avoided naming names the entire way through, but when you admit exactly where the beatings came from Mem doesn't even look surprised.)

When he tried to hit you again, you threw up your arm and the broken bottle came down on that instead of killing you. You had made a run for your room instead of the front door, because at least that can lock from the inside.

And then, well. You had actually meant to text Tyler. It made sense at the time because you'd known him the longest, but in hindsight it was terrible. Tyler would have told the other kids, and then Shope would really lean into some therapist act thinking it would make you feel better, and Roach would just cry and that would fuck you up worse than anything has the right to. And then his mom would inevitably get involved and she would call the police and everything would go to shit and fuck it all, you're crying again.

You try to exhale all the panic attack out of you before you keep going. Mem looks like he wants to hug you, but he's been pulling glass out of your scalp, intermittently complaining that this wouldn't be so hard if humans just weren't so _hairy._ He's gone quiet. You switch subjects.

"Why did Zen have to leave the room?"

"Pardon?"

"He like… gasped and left when I took my shirt off. I know my back looks like a cafeteria sloppy joe, but I didn't think I'd make anyone sick on sight like one," you joke.

For some reason Mem doesn't think it's very funny. He takes a second to answer. "Zen was a field medic for a while. We got assigned to bust an enemy base. There were prisoners. A lot had, um. Similar injuries."

"Oh." Oh. You forget these guys are basically war vets, sometimes. Now you feel even shittier.

"Don't feel bad. You're on the receiving end of this." Mem loops some gauze around your head. "I'm gonna need you to lie face-down on the couch so I can get at, you know. That."

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm dying," you say before complying. "Also, can I stay at your place? I'm not going home. Just because my dad's trying to kill me doesn't mean I'm gonna stay there and take it."

You can't see Mem's expression anymore, but you think he's proud of you. "Stay as long as you need. We'll figure something out."

You sleep on somebody else's couch for the second night in a row.

* * *

A/N:

I'm a filthy angst-lover, but this story's leveled off at a point I'm comfortable with. It's far from over, but I can write other things now.


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